


CasaRicka

by Hextant



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Jerrick, M/M, Watersports, but w/e i thought i should mention it anyway bc it might get more prominent later, mild warning of that for chapter 2 it's very insignificant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-08
Updated: 2016-02-17
Packaged: 2018-05-19 03:19:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5951812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hextant/pseuds/Hextant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, Life seemed to enjoy pushing Jerry to the floor, laughing, stepping on him, and spitting on his face all the while.<br/>And sometimes, Life seemed to enjoy taking form of his father - in - law.</p><p>His disgusting, vile ... sickeningly attractive father - in - law.</p><p>[ on hiatus until season 3. sorry, just not feeling the muse right now! ]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Four days ago, Rick had informed Jerry and Beth that he and Morty would be taking a bit of a lengthy adventure, but he had refused to give any explicit details beyond estimating it would take them on the upside of a week to get their asses back home.  Beth had only offered up something of a nervous smile and agreed to let Morty go, so long as they both came back in one piece.  Jerry was less pleased about this situation, but when it came to Rick, his wife was certain the man could do no wrong, and there was nothing he could say against her to change her mind.

It was with reluctance that he had stood in the doorway of the garage, hand on his hip, watching them clamber into that stupid spaceship.  Rick had flipped him the bird, pleased with his accomplishment of getting Morty for a week of his summer vacation, and Morty had only given his grandfather a disparaging look before they had disappeared off to God only knows where.

Two days ago, Summer had excitedly informed her parents that she had finally been accepted as a summer camp counselor, and thus would be occupied for the next four weeks.  Beth actually seemed to be encouraging that she meet some cute boys there, and to have fun.  Jerry, skeptical, made a side trip to a gas station on his way home from another flopped job interview to pick up some condoms.  You could never be too safe, as his own life had shown.

Having been the one to encourage her to get a new job after her seasonal stint had ended, Jerry was certain to inform her he was proud of her for securing a job that, though temporary, made her happy when he dropped her off at the lake.  He’d managed to get a hug out of her before she had clambered out of the car, unwilling to be thought of as a Daddy’s Girl when there were potential hot dudes there.

Yesterday, Beth informed him that she had to attend a few classes that would require an overnight stay at a hotel, as it was out of town and it was just safer for her not to drive back home at eleven o’clock at night.  Though reluctant to agree if only because there was no promise of any of his friends wanting to play golf this weekend, he really didn’t have any other choice.  Beth was the one paying the mortgage on the house, and provided the primary income that kept food on the table, and if she had to renew her license or whatever by attending classes, she would have to go regardless of how lonely her husband felt.

After a quick breakfast together, their first one alone in a while, Jerry had been certain to deliver a quick and -- hopefully -- meaningful kiss to bid her goodbye at the door, and then watched her drive off, cementing in the fact that he was now entirely alone at home.  At least she looked as uninterested and miserable as he felt.

Today, with no one to talk to and nothing to do, and a certainty that it would remain that way until likely five in the afternoon, Jerry is left to wander about the empty nest of a home in some attempt to entertain himself.  He had woken up around six, force of habit at this point.  Unable to go back to sleep with no thanks to a rather excitable pair of finches outside the window, he had made himself a quick breakfast.  Then proceeded to do all of the dishes in the sink.  And the ones in the dishwasher, as well.  He’d even manually dried them and put them away.

Next up on the list was a quick shower to wash off the sweat from sleep.  Even alone, that bed got _hot_ at night.  After a quick scrub down, he’d noticed just how much laundry had piled up in the bin.  It had taken two loads, but he did that as well, even going so far as to fold everyone’s clothes, put Morty’s and Summer’s in what he hoped was all the respective and proper areas ( he hadn’t wanted to investigate too far ), and cleaned out his and Beth’s closet to put theirs away as well.

Once he had finished that , a glance at the clock told him that he may as well get to making himself something to eat; maybe thankfully, lunch didn’t leave him many dishes to do, since he had only made a sandwich.  Just a butter knife and a plate had to be rinsed and put away.

He’s left with at least two and a half hours or so before Beth would get home by then, though, and God knows the only way that time is going to pass in a, well, timely manner is if he occupies himself with something interesting for the duration.  He could try another job hunt, probably, but quite frankly, he’s just not feeling up to it at the moment.  He could watch some TV, but at this point, he’s feeling his active and productive day could only be for naught if he sits on his ass and does nothing now.

So, then ...

… While it’s probably a very bad idea, and hardly anyone else’s idea of productive , he decides that he has time to go take a peek into Rick’s room.  He shouldn’t, he really shouldn’t, no amount of telling himself it’s for _Morty’s sake_  will change that, and God only knows that Rick would absolutely ruin him if he found Jerry going through his things, but …  the overwhelming curiosity crushes the fear that rides on the potential of getting caught.  Because it was unlikely as fuck.  And maybe it was a little exciting.

That was all he needed to light a fire under his feet.  Theoretically, of course.  The carpet was _not_ actually on fire.  Beth would probably kill him for that.  And besides, such a thing would probably be Rick’s fault and not his own, anyway.

He finds the door slightly ajar, haha, like that douchebag is inviting me in or something , and cautiously tips it open enough for himself to fit inside the doorframe.  It’s not the first time he’d come in here -- he had actually been in here a few times.  He’d even sat on the rickety old cot that Rick slept on and lamented about his life for a while before being kicked out.  But whatever.  Rick wasn’t here to yell at him this time.  And besides, last time, he’d been too upset to actually, well, _see_  things as they were.

For all he knew, he could have some weird … torture device or something in here that would prove he shouldn’t be around Morty as much as he was.  ( Not that a quick survey showed anything akin to that, but really .  It could be anywhere. )

Along the wall over the bed were papers connected by multicolored strings, and even rubber bands.  Some of the drawings he could recognize and understand: there was a diagram of his spaceship, one of his crafted guns, some planets ( or, at least things that looked like planets ) …  but more than that, there were things he really _didn’t_  understand, like complicated mathematical equations, pictures of people and aliens he’s never seen in his life, and various newspaper clippings.

Figuring that he would find nothing of interest amongst these things, he decides to go around the room in a sort of circle, see what he could see, and then scram before Beth got home.  Potentially clues awaited, and he had to start somewhere.  So, first order of business was to check out the box next to the cot.  It looked like it was just an old shoebox filled with floppy disks that he’d be able to do nothing with, but some of them seemed to have labels on them, and maybe they weren’t _all_ sciencey things … ?

…

Or maybe his hopes were just a touch too high.

He’s quick to find almost nothing of interest within the few that _have_  labels.  They’re all in numbers and symbols, and he couldn’t even begin to translate them if he tried.  An unlabeled CD sits on the floor beside it, and he thinks _that_  is something he could check out later, so he picks it up and puts it on the bed.  He won’t forget it, hopefully.

Under the bed seems to be the expected things.  A rolled up blanket, some folded sheets and various other cloths and whatnot that didn’t seem to have any major significance beyond being there in case he needed them.  For whatever reason.

Uninterested, he moves on to the dresser.

Atop it is a microscope, and flicking on the little light shows him that whatever it is in the petri dish on the tray, it seems to be dead.  The light goes off.  The only other things of interest he finds over there consist of an old glass heart with a frosted bird figure encased in the center of it on a string, and … the discovery of the fact his father-in-law seems to enjoy wearing green boxer-briefs.

The low - sitting shelf nearby had papers and books that didn’t catch his interest, but an old looking VHS tape that most certainly did, much like the CD.  That goes onto the bed as well for later, further examination.  Maybe it was an old home movie, or something even older than that?  Huh.  Weird to think of Rick as the sentimental type.  Maybe it could show Jerry a whole new side of him.   _Pfft, yeah right._

In some boxes stacked in the corner next to the shelf, he finds an old Zippo lighter with the words ‘ Flesh Curtains ‘ shallowly carved into the metal on the flip lid.  Weird, he didn’t know Rick ever smoked.  You learn something new every day.  Regardless, he pockets it with the intentions of looking into the significance of the words, though if he had to guess, it just sounded a lot to him like some tongue-in-cheek reference to a vagina.

Other than that, the only thing Jerry found was a photo album.  He only gets through a few pages -- all of them pictures of Beth as a child -- before he hears the car coming up the driveway.  Thank God their stupid old clunky thing was in need of a look at from the professionals.  He snaps the cover shut, hastily puts the box he had been digging through back into the pile, and collects the album back up along with that CD and the unmarked VHS tape.

It’s a manic race up the stairs to their bedroom, but he makes it in record time.  He can hear the car pulling to a stop and the engine cutting just as he hits the door.  He may not be in the best shape, but at least he’s still got it.

After cramming everything into his own underwear drawer, he saunters downstairs with a smile just as Beth walks into the house, looking almost dead on her feet, and definitely grumpy.  Unphased because he finally has someone home , someone he can talk to aside from himself, he sweeps forward, arms open.  “ Hey, Honey! “ he greets her brightly, taking her up against himself in a quick hug.

Though she tolerates it, her look of disinterest only deepens when he kisses her.  But, as irritated and unwelcoming as she appeared, she doesn’t shove him away, so that at least told him that she wasn’t mad at _him_  for any particular and unspoken reason.  Must have just been a bad day.

“ So, how was it?  Geeze, Beth, you look beat.  Wh - What time is it, I can make you something to eat if you haven’t eaten yet.  All the dishes are finally done, so -- ”

“ Oh my God, please stop talking for five seconds. ”  She doesn’t seem to notice the look of hurt that flashes over her husband’s face when she speaks, or, if she does, she just doesn’t care.  She brings a hand up to massage her temples, slouching back against the door.  “ Some _asshole_  T-boned the car, I have whiplash, and a migraine.  I’m not hungry, I just want to take a shower, and lay down for a while. “

“ Oh.  Shi -- I mean … Just.  Hell, are you alright, Beth?  You should have called me when it happened, did you get his insurance?  If you didn’t already do it, I can call them and get this shit all sorted out.  Heh, and hey, maybe …  M - Maybe since we still have the house to ourselves, we can turn on Bound, I can give you a massage, and we can eat dinner in bed tonight. “

Beth gives him a weird look, her hand now moving to the back of her neck.  “ The VCR hasn’t worked in three weeks, “ is all she says before she drops her purse on the entry table, and heads off upstairs.  There’s an awkward silence, only broken by her footsteps, and then the bathroom door slams shut behind her.  A hot shower is just as good as a massage, then, he guesses.  Alright.  Whatever makes her happy.

Jerry is left standing there dumbly, feeling as rejected as ever, with no clear information on what happened to their car or what would happen in the future, no idea on whether or not Beth had any intention of eating dinner with him tonight, or if she just wanted to be left alone … and the sudden awareness that he wouldn’t be able to see what was on that stupid tape now, if their VCR was broken.

He can’t help but think, as he forlornly makes his way to the kitchen to find something light that he could make in case Beth did decide to eat, that life really had the shittiest sense of humor.  The smallest and most insignificant things, which in and of themselves were frankly quite scoff - worthy, just added up so much over time that, despite himself, he could see why it was his wife and father - in - law always seemed to turn to booze for the answer to all of life’s questions.

Finding nothing of particular interest food - wise, and discovering it was only roughly four o’clock, according to the time on the microwave, Jerry rocks up on his tiptoes, tipping the cold metal of Rick’s flask closer to the edge of the fridge until it fell against his other outstretched hand.  Upon confirming that there was indeed something still left in it, he heads to the garage, intent on utilizing the boxed up surround speakers to drown away his shitty mood in some good old - fashioned jazz music.

If there was one thing that couldn’t go wrong, it was the smooth sound of a bluesy trumpet.


	2. Chapter 2

They’ve never exactly been very good at sharing the couch. One would think with a family of five in the house, learning to share the three cushions was pretty much a necessity. Unfortunately, that was not the case.

“ M - Morty, if you don’t fucking move, I - I swear to God, I won’t be responsible for what happens when -- wh - what happens to your stupid punk ass, ” Rick warns, grumpily shoving his foot against Morty’s thigh. The only response this seems to get him at all is a low groan. “ Fucking -- c’mon, move, you little -- ”

“ Oh my God, wh - why should I move? I was on the couch first, Rick! ” Though Morty was _trying_ to sound assertive, he only came off as whiny. “ Geez, I mean, why … w - w - why don’t you … you can sit on the recliner if you somehow don’t have enough space, you know! ” Sticking his tongue out at his grandpa, he makes his point then by assuming usual teenage - boy sitting position; he leans back further into the cushion, letting his knees drop apart. He’d like to see someone fucking _try_ and stop him.

Crinkling his nose in distaste at that sassy shit thrown back at him, Rick surges up from his laying position faster than someone his age should be able to. “ Oh, now you’re gonna get it -- “

“ _Dad_. ” Beth’s voice is firm when she interrupts from her place at the entryway of the kitchen. Her eyes narrow on Rick, who has both arms extended toward Morty, clearly poised for what had likely been about to be the beginning of a tickle fight. She continues to stare him down until he lowers his hands, and slumps back a little bit. Morty remains in his defensive position, arms safely tucked around his waist.

“ I know that you and Morty are having _fun_ , but I’m trying to study. “ Sighing, she lowers her arms. “ The TV is already distracting enough. If you guys are going to rough house, could you at least take it somewhere else? “

There’s a silence before Rick grunts and drops backwards onto the couch again. He’s pretty much caught in the gripping pressure to cater to his daughter; God knows he owes her the world and then some. He can’t really tell _her_ to go study elsewhere, and he was clearly not in any position to blame it on Morty.

Considering this a personal victory of sorts, even if he really hadn’t done much himself, Morty smirks in Rick’s direction before turning back to the TV.

Defeated and thoroughly put in a position that didn’t seem to leave much other choice, Rick gives Morty one swift, but still playful, kick in the thigh, muttering, “ Charlie Horse, “ before he gets up. The resounding, “ Ow! Geez, Rick! “ follows him as he heads to the kitchen after Beth. Might as well just give up on TV all together. He could make something to eat, then get back to work on …

He falters only momentarily when he sees Jerry there as well.

It’s not because he didn’t expect to see the man here -- after all, where else would he be? He didn’t have a job, and any friends he had were really quite frankly using the term _friend_ loosely.

No, what actually brings him to pause is the fact Jerry isn’t just sitting there eating or hassling his wife; he had a bunch of books stacked and splayed around him in a mockery of a circle, and more shockingly was the spiral notebook, marked up with bright highlighter, filled with random scrawlings that he couldn’t make out from where he stood. Jerry was currently fingering some article in one of the open books, scribbling down something furiously on the paper.

Rick offers Beth a questioning glance as she sits down, but since she doesn’t quite get what he’s confused about, she only offers him a shrug in response. Alrighty, then. He inches closer to the table as Beth goes back to her work, and leans over her in an attempt to look like he wasn’t trying to spy on Jerry.

He still can’t make out that chicken scratch though. It’s like Jerry took a course on that shitty doctor cursive handwriting. Those fuckers did it on purpose, he’d know.

Giving up the front, he siddles over. “ S - So, hey, Jerry, “ he starts as he moves to stand behind him, actually leaning into his personal space bubble to evaluate the notebook’s contents. He must have been using the condescending tone without even meaning to this time, because Jerry sort of hunches up his shoulders, and Rick can easily see the way his fingers tighten on the body of the pen. He tries to shift into something more neutral. “ Whatcha … w - w - whatcha doin’ there, Buddy? ”

Jerry’s response is grumbled through tightly closed teeth, and he moves his arm over the paper as if to block it from Rick’s field of vision.

Rick offers an immediate deadpan expression and straightens up again, but he doesn’t back off. All he’d gotten out of the brief bit he could read was _cognitive,_ and that seemed incredibly out of place for a man like Jerry. His eyes shift instead to the book. It looked like one of those _For Dummies_ books. Heh.

“ Come on, don’t mumble, Jerry. W - we’re not … not everyone here is well - versed in bullshit. “

“ … I said, _I’m not a dog,_ Rick, “ Jerry firmly asserts again, this time turning his head to look up to his father - in - law with a look that can only read as, well. Defiant. As if he was daring Rick to keep that shit up. Maybe he was. Just because he was used to being belittled doesn’t mean he had to sit here and take it.

Rick isn’t really surprised, but at the same time, he is. Then again, as much as he hated to admit it, he had to acknowledge that Morty and Jerry had more in common than curly, brown hair. Both of them tended to be sheepish and shy to a fault, but it wasn’t unconditional. In fact, Morty’s little worshipful mindset when it came to Rick seemed to have worn off long before Rick had first shoved his tongue past his lips.

Wrong thing to be thinking about right now.

“ Coulda fooled me, “ he offers in return, not one to be stood up by fucking Jerry of all people. When he gets no immediate response that extends beyond another grumble of frustration, he cants his head to the side, gaze turning to the cupboards. Alright, maybe back to his initial plan. Food, and then back to probing his newest specimen for some cells so he could get back to work on his new regeneration project.

But, much to his surprise, Jerry slams his pen down on the table, scrapes up his notebook, then thrusts it over his shoulder, into Rick’s chest. It takes a bit of fumbling to keep it from hitting the floor, since apparently Jerry had no intention of holding onto it himself after deciding to be rid of it.

Though he has to study it for a moment to familiarize himself with the way Jerry scribbles the alphabet, on the page offered to him, Rick is able to gather that this was … well. It had to do with cognitive behavioral therapy. The highlighted section read _Thinking Flexibly,_ and underneath it in a bulleted line was a various list of words: _must • should • need • ought • got to • have to_ , and then highlighted in the margins next to that were the words _problematic, extreme, rigid_.

Arching his eyebrow curiously, Rick purses his lips and looks up over the top of the notebook at Jerry, who seems to have decided he didn’t care what Rick thought; he’d taken up his highlighter, and just went at his book instead, seemingly ticking off things he wanted to take note of later on. The whole purpose, though, was something only he himself seemed to know.

“ … Used to dabble in this shit a bit myself, “ Rick finally ventures, holding the notebook back towards him. “ Beth’s mother was really into all of this. ” He looks to her, but she doesn’t seem to have heard him.

“ Yeah, “ is Jerry’s distracted response, “ I know. “

Immediately, a tension falls. Rick and Jerry both seem caught on the same length of hesitation. Jerry had learned this from the stupid unlabeled tape he had yoinked from Rick’s room after _much_ fiddling with the VCR. Beth had never really spoken about her mother, and with Beth sitting _right there_ , it didn’t seem like a very good idea to say she had mentioned it before. In some amazing stroke of luck, Rick doesn’t seem to want to talk about it, either.

He simply turns away from the table and opens the fridge without a word. After pawing around for a bit, with Jerry hyper aware of every second ticking by, he closes the fridge, an arm full of two bottles of water, a can of beer, and some yogurt. Then, without looking at either of them, he heads into the garage.

Jerry is quiet about the sigh of relief he breathes, but he doesn’t really feel that’s going to be the end of it. But at least he had some thinking time, and maybe he could even manage to avoid being caught alone by Rick for a little while if he just … hung out with Beth or Morty. Both of them. Family fun night. Hhhahaha. Yeah. Shit.

* * *

Jerry’s plan goes swimmingly, for the most part. Luck is, for a time, on his side. Beth opts to take some of her paid vacation time solely because it’s stacked up to two weeks, and they won’t be letting it get any longer, even if she deserves it. Sure, she only opts for a three day weekend, wanting to save the rest for emergencies or for an _actual_ vacation -- but it’s three days that he can’t be cornered by Rick.

And on top of that, it sounds to him like that would be three days he gets to spend with his wife, showing her that he is indeed keeping his word. He’s _trying._ He’s filling out applications, he’s updating and sending out his resume, he’s making calls; he’s putting an honest effort into this, God be damned, and he _will_ get a job.

Sure, the first day doesn’t impress her as much as he’d hoped. But she does actually smile, and congratulate him sincerely, when he gets off the phone with a hopeful impression that he is, at the very least, most likely going to be getting an in - person interview with the manager of a clothing warehouse after a good impromptu phone one. That was a start.

When Beth didn’t want to spend her entire afternoon with him the second day, Jerry manages to instead get Morty to tuck up with him on the couch to marathon some Star Wars. Neither were all too certain they’d make it through nearly fourteen uninterrupted hours of movies, but to make things more interesting, they had decided to watch them in flashback order: four, five, one, two, three, then six.

While Rick had inevitably joined them, crashing between them on the couch, Morty had insisted every time Rick tried to speak at all that he was ruining the movie, even if it was really in the slow action. And even if he’d seen them all at least twice. By the time the second movie ( in release order, not watching order ) came on, Rick had nodded off on Morty’s shoulder. Jerry was safe a second night, and Morty seemed actually fairly pleased to be a pillow.

He doesn’t need much excuse the third day; Rick and Morty are gone before Jerry even wakes up in the morning, and while he’s curious where the Hell they’d gone off to at the ass crack of dawn, he doesn’t bother to even try texting Morty about it. It was just easier not to worry about it, they did this much too often.

Instead, he decides to utilize the time to watch a little more of that tape. Since he doesn’t know how much time he has, though, he brings the VCR up to his room. Probably wouldn’t be a very good idea to keep watching it in the living room knowing Rick could be home at any time.

After getting everything hooked up, he pulls the tape out of his underwear drawer, pops it in and then proceeds to make himself comfortable while it picks up where it had left off.

Last time, it had opened with a woman’s face peering almost uncertainly into the camera before rolling her eyes and moving the entire thing away. It had seemed as if she had been the one holding it, since it had been her arm that seemingly set it down before it focused on a much younger looking Rick Sanchez sprawled out on the bed. Or, well, halfway on the bed. It was more like his legs and hips on the bed and the rest of him draped on the floor.

This time, though, there’s a black card being held up. On it, in presumably white crayon -- or chalk? He couldn’t tell -- was written _Exp. 1, Day 2 -- PAS; Sanchez, R._ Something else was scribbled out under it. He doesn’t get a chance to try to make it out, because the card is simply dropped on the floor. This leaves a view of Rick, once again in a rather compromising position. Jerry licks his lips.

Even with the camera work so incredibly shaky, clearly being held instead of placed on a stand or something, there was something just incredibly attractive about Rick’s body language. He just seemed so much looser and more relaxed than he was these days. His shirt was hiked up enough to expose one half of his chest as he scratched at it with heavily - ringed fingers, and he seemed entirely unaware of the camera.

Or, maybe he was _entirely_ aware of it, if he was rolling that tongue ring across his teeth like that on purpose. He can’t help but wonder if Rick could still _wear_ a tongue ring, or if it was one of those ones that tended to close up after a while. And then his mind wanders to how something like that might feel on his dick. … Oh, boy.

_“ Rick, are you even listening to me? ”_

_Hand dropping from the crop top, he lazily rolls his head to the side, and snorts before offering a rather sarcastic, “ When am I not listenin’ to you, Baby? ”_

Jerry feels something stir in his gut the way he talked, with the sultry gaze fixated on the camera. **Oh boy.**

_The woman behind the camera sighs, and the frames move with her. But, she seems unwilling to continue hassling him, and instead she moves to set the camera down on something. It remains fixated on Rick the entire time, and his gaze follows it all too curiously. His mouth remains pretty much open, ball of the tongue ring rocking and sliding over his teeth as he chews on it._

_“ Right. Today is Thursday, July fourteenth, and today, we’re going to be executing the experiment. That is, again, pleasant activity scheduling. Whilst no signs of depression are incredibly evident in the subject -- “_

_“ What is this, huh, some … I - I - I’m not some science fair project over here. “ His lips take a downturn, and for the first time since the card dropped, Rick closes his mouth. His eyebrows furrow, making the piercing in the left one stand out a lot more than it had before, being such a light color._

Jerry wasn’t particularly fond of body piercings as a general rule, they seemed … well, kind of stupid, frankly, but Rick made them look so goddamned enticing. With at least five in one ear, two at his eyebrow, the one in his tongue, and the one in his belly button, he seemed pretty decked out, and it was a wonder if he didn’t have any more.

Like … like maybe he had one on his dick. Would that be too much, even for him?

Why is he thinking about that?

_” --write down the next seven days on the paper. “_

It seems Jerry’d been a little more distracted than he thought. When had she moved on from sighing at his interrupting? And when had Rick picked up that little pocket notebook thingy? Yikes. Definitely time to put the boner away there.

_” … You said i - it’s Thursday? Shit. So I write today, too … “ Rick mutters on to himself as he puts pen to the paper. But he pauses, and looks up again. “ … Like some shitty chart, right? Or a list? Or what? ”_

_“ A list or a chart, whichever is easiest for you. “_

_He rolls his eyes, but goes back to jotting down the days as he was told. Once he’s finished, he looks back over to the camera._

_“ Uh huh. So, what now? ”_

_“ Alright. You have a hard time getting motivated to do things you wouldn’t ‘ normally do. ’ So, Rick, if you would -- please write down one activity each day that’s enjoyable, not unhealthy, and something you don’t usually do on that day. “_

_He stares at her blankly._

It’s an expression that Jerry knows so well, it’s almost painful. But, then again, this time … it isn’t directed at him. It’s set on someone that seems to be his girlfriend, judging their interactions beyond this whole deal, which meant he seemed to get this way with everyone, and no one was really special.

The tape goes on that way for a bit, with her coaxing him into things he might want to try listing, him arguing it, and eventually caving in to her if only because she wasn’t going to let up. Though, for Wednesday, he had none - too - subtly ensured that she knew that he was going to thoroughly ravish her, apparently.

_” --do it very often. Nothing unhealthy about going to town on you for a while, right, Babe? “ His tongue slithers out between his teeth again, and he does some rather amazing little flicks and twists, things that only show off that stupid stud of a tongue ring more than necessary._

_The girl behind the camera sighs, but it sounds particularly quivery this time. “ Yes, alright, Rick. I get it. You can write that down if you’d like. Just -- “_

And then the screen goes black. Jerry blinks, having kind of sort of been hoping that Rick would continue on in that husky low tone, talking to her more about what exactly he was going to do to her. But, it remains black and dead silent for a good fifteen seconds -- and then there’s noise again.

A thump, particularly, of something he couldn’t put a finger on. And then a noise he was familiar with; someone taking a piss. He frowns in confusion, but things remain black. Then, Rick’s voice.

_” Think it’s pretty hot if you ask me. “_

_“ Well, I’m not asking you, Rick. “_

_That wasn’t the usual female voice that had been on the, what, previous half an hour or so of the tape? In fact, it was a male voice, and that somehow got Jerry intrigued again. Even if one of them had just been taking a piss. It was hard to tell who, and frankly, he didn’t think that mattered too much._

_” You should be. “_

_The camera lens comes off, finally, and practically front and center was someone’s dick. And their feet. And the tile floor of a bathroom. It pans up just slightly, and there’s Rick, kneeling on the floor with his bottom lip between his teeth, a hand on his own dick._

_He laughs when the person holding the camera messes with the lens, adjusting the zoom and focus, but it’s a bit shaky. His fingers, still laden with rings, slowly glide up the length of his cock, and he offers a low groan that only gets a snort of bemusement from the camera wielder._

Jerry, however, couldn’t be more turned on right now if he tried. And oh, God, sitting here in the bed he shared with his wife every night made him want to try. But he can’t fucking help it, the position Rick is currently in, the way the camera seems to focus so intently on that sultry stare, and the way it looks like Rick is looking right at him as he strokes himself … **fuck**.

_” You’re a sick fuck, Sanchez. “_

_“ Yeah, “ Rick breathes, finally removing his hand from himself to place it flat against the floor. The dark leather of his jeans in contrast to his skin tone leaves his dick prominent in the frame. He doesn’t seem too bothered by it. Rolling his tongue out against his teeth, he clicks the ball of his tongue ring against his incisor. “ Tell me more. “_

_The only response this gets is a grunt, and the man holding the camera shifts on his feet, putting his own dick back in the frame. And then Rick is crawling forward on his hands and knees, leaning up to run his tongue just over the tip, eliciting an unsteady breath from the unknown man._

“ Oh, god … “ Jerry’s voice cracks involuntarily as he finds himself undoing the button of his jeans. He shouldn’t be doing this, for fuck’s sake this was his wife’s _father._ The same man happy to spit at and belittle him at any chance he got. The same man he was currently avoiding like the goddamned plague, lest he find out that Jerry knows about this video tape in the first place.

_” Bet it tastes like piss, “ the man on screen is muttering now, and Rick groans, hand now moving from the floor to presumably rest on the thigh of the camera man. “ How the fuck do you get off to that? “_

_Another whine from Rick as he licks up the length of the man’s flaccid dick, seemingly hoping to encourage it into activity. The effort does not seem to be in vain; the camera shifts to a weird angle now. While it seems more focused on Rick, it’s probably entirely an accident._

_Rick laughs as he leans back, and his hand comes back into focus, thumbing against the head as he guides it to his mouth, eyebrows high and eyes fixated off - screen._

_“ … You gonna swallow that whole thing, you little slut? Huh? ”_

_A shit eating grin pulls up the corners of Rick’s lips, and just like that, he begins to take more of him into his mouth._

More than Jerry thought anyone humanly could with such fucking _ease._ He hasn’t gotten himself off in at least a week now, and he wonders if he’ll even last long enough to see this guy finish. He wonders if Rick would swallow that, too, or if the guy would do it on his face, or --

His own whimper practically syncs to the moan of the man in the video, and the reverberating laugh Rick gives around that mouthful sends a shiver down his spine. Holy _fuck._

_” Yeah, shit, just like th -- “_

And then the camera clatters to the floor, and the screen goes black before cutting to the loud, obnoxious fuzz. With his heart in his throat, Jerry leaps for the remote to turn off the VCR, fumbling for a moment before the room suddenly falls silent, aside from his panting.

As he finally catches his breath, he drops the remote on the bedroom floor, and pulls himself up to his feet, shuffling awkwardly into the bathroom, hoping the scalding hot water of the shower would clean the sticky mess off of his hand and thigh, and the shame and guilt from his conscience.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know i used dick a lot. but my only other option was 'throbbing skin sausage' and i don't think you guys want me to use that. ( i'm joking, mostly. )

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Dani ( telemort @ tumblr ) for being an awesome beta. Also a loser.  
> This is dedicated to her, Ethan ( gooey-draws-shit ) and Alex ( qanine ), because we are all now in disgusting Jerrick Hell together and there is no such thing as freedom from the void.
> 
> For more Jerrick trash between updates, check out my ( sin - filled side ) blog, mindthev0id @ tumblr. See you there, nerds.


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